


Your Move

by zillah1199



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zillah1199/pseuds/zillah1199
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For DARBB. Special thanks to Amaranthined for the adorable artwork and big, big thanks to silentstephi and quilleth for beta'ing for me. Also check out http://archiveofourown.org/works/910213<br/><img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Move

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Friday Night Is Game Night](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/25585) by Zae. 



It was mostly Isabela’s fault, their little band of misfits. She had a habit of bringing people together, mostly by sleeping with them. Anders had been the first of them, just a weekend fling. Then she met Garrett, and they stayed together for a few weeks before she started feeling the need to move on. He’d been hurt at first, but really, it was impossible to stay mad at Isabela.

“I’m the best ex-girlfriend you’ll ever have,” she always said, and she was right. She didn’t do ‘feelings’, not in a relationship, but as a friend, she was affectionate, devoted and the most fun you could have (more or less) legally.

After Garrett she moved on to Fenris. She’d met him through Anders - they’d had a few classes together. His name wasn’t really Fenris; it’s just what everyone called him. Whatever his name was, he was the most beautiful man that Garrett had ever seen. Soft white hair, dusky caramel skin and eyes that held every shade of green you could ever imagine. For Garrett it was love at first sight. Unfortunately, Fenris didn’t seem to share the attraction. Of course, it was hard to notice anyone else when you were with Isabela.

They got together regularly, but Friday night was Game Night. The game shop where Garrett worked part-time closed early on Fridays, and they all got together in the basement to play cards, video games, board games, and just generally hang out. Sebastian Vael, who worked at the pizza shop around the corner (and was surprisingly cool for a seminary student) would usually stop by after hours with left-over pizza and bread sticks. Sometimes Varric, Garrett’s boss would come down and join them - those nights they usually ended up playing poker or something similar.

Varric Tethras was an old family friend of the Hawke’s. When Garrett came back to Kirkwall after finishing his undergraduate work in L.A., he’d given Garrett a job in his game store and let him rent the (really nice) apartment above the store ridiculously cheap. Garrett had never been sure what Varric’s main line of work was - it certainly wasn’t a store that did sparse business at best. Garrett suspected it might be a front or a tax dodge or something. That was okay with him, the lack of actual customers meant that Garrett had plenty of time to study and keep up with his homework. Like Anders, Hawke was a grad student. Unlike Anders, he was actually planning to graduate in his natural lifetime.

Last Game Night, Isabela and Fenris had seemed a bit distant with each other, and while Garrett certainly wished his friends well, part of him couldn’t help but hope that Isabela was getting ready to move on. He didn’t think Fenris was the least bit interested in him or men in general, but at least he wouldn’t have to watch Isabela drape herself all over him any more. Or drag him out early, her comments making it very clear she intended to take him home and shag him senseless.

No, last time Fenris had spent most of the evening arguing with Anders. Not an unusual occurrence, the two of them loved to argue over everything. Horde vs. Alliance, Kirk vs. Picard, Marvel vs. D.C. Turned out Anders was a D.C. fanboy, while Fenris turned up his nose at anything that wasn’t X-Men or an independent title. Pepperoni or anchovies. (Fenris hated anchovies.) Coffee or tea. There was little animosity between the two; they just seemed to take great pleasure in disagreeing and needling each other over every little thing. Like brothers or an old married couple. One thing they both wholeheartedly agreed on was that the weird Kirkwall habit of putting French Fries actually on the sandwich, rather than on the side, was a culinary abomination. Garrett rather liked it, but then again, he’d lived in Kirkwall most of his life, so he was used to it. In fact, he’d missed it when he’d been across the country. The food in L.A. was fine, you could find nearly anything you wanted (nearly), but sometimes Hawke had just longed for a big, hot, cheesy steak sandwich buried under a layer of greasy fries.

Garrett was trudging across campus when he saw them. He was having a lousy day, stymied by a paper he should have been working on that simply refused to coalesce in his head. He was overtired, under caffeinated and slushy rain had worked its way down the collar of his jacket. 

He heard someone call his name and looked up. It was Isabela and a delicate, sylph-like brunette who was holding her hand. “Garrett!” Isabela waved to him with her free hand, and dragged her friend over to meet him. 

“This is Merrill. She’s Welsh. She has the most delicious accent. Merrill, this is Garrett Hawke, I told you about him.”

“Hello, Garrett, it’s lovely to meet you.” She held out one tiny, mittened hand. “Isabela was just showing me the Chantry of Learning. Made me feel a bit homesick, but still, it was lovely. Only why do they call it the Chantry of Learning? I mean it looks like a chantry, but it wasn’t ever used for one, was it?”

Garrett smiled. “No, it’s always been for classrooms and administrations. The Honor College has its offices there. So does Arts and Sciences. I think it was a library once as well. It just looks like a chantry. It's supposed to be Gothic Revival, but it still has a lot of elements of Art Deco as well.”

“Hawke’s working on his M.A. in architecture,” Isabela informed her friend. “Merrill's studying history.”

“Pleased to meet you. American history, I take it.”

“Oh no. I'm very interested in cannibalism.”

“I'm sorry?” Garrett was sure he heard wrong.

“The Druids, I mean, and ancient Welsh history. Human sacrifices and everything. Like Pliny said.”

“And you came to Cousland-Amell University to do it?” 

“Yes, because of Professor Orsino. He really is the best, and it's so hard to find someone researching ancient Druidic lore who isn't, well, a bit of a loony, really.”

Garrett laughed.

“Oh, have I said something funny?” The tiny woman looked back and forth between Garrett and Isabela.

“Not exactly. It's my sister, Bethany. She's in Glasgow studying Iroquois religious practices because of Professor Mahariel. I just always thought it was so odd that she traveled halfway across the world to study people that had lived in this area, and now here you are having done the same thing, only in reverse.”

“Oh, I see?” Merrill's puzzled smile made it clear she didn't. 

Isabela just kissed the top of her head. “Come on kitten, we've got homework to do.” The smirk at the corner of 'Bela's mouth made it very clear to Garrett that any studying they were off to do was strictly extra-curricular. 

It had turned out to be a good day after all.

Sure enough, next Game Night, Fenris showed up on his own, while Isabela brought Merrill and it was immediately clear she was smitten with the wide-eyed Welsh girl. Fenris and Anders spent most of the night involved in a savage game of CoD, while Isabela worked on her laptop.

Looming over the back of the couch, Merrill had a puzzled expression on her face. “I thought you were doing homework?”

“I am, kitten, this is for my creative writing class.”

“You’re writing dirty stories for an English class?”

“Creative writing. I’m being creative. Besides, the professor said to write what you know.” Garrett heard the smirk in her voice, even though her back was to him. 

“Oh, you’re writing about Hawke and Anders.”

Three heads, Garrett’s, Fenris’ and Anders’, whipped around to stare at Isabela. She just shrugged. “Friend fiction. Don’t worry, I’ll probably change the names before I turn it in.”

“Probably?” Garrett’s voice was a bit strangled.

“Oh, Hawke, I didn’t know you were hung like...” Merrill squinted at the screen. “Like an Antivan stallion.”

Garrett turned scarlet under the sudden scrutiny. He tried very hard not to meet Fenris' gaze, looking at him over his glasses, a completely blank expression on his face.

“Anders? Can you really hook your legs over the back of your shoulders like that?”

Anders sputtered, halfway between laughter and horror when everyone turned to look at him. “I would like to state, for posterity, Garrett has never shown the least bit of interest in me, I have never seen his, er, stallion, and yes, I can hook my knees over my shoulders.” Fenris nudged him. “What, oh, fuck, I’ve died. We’ll have to go back to our last save. Your fault Isabela!”

Everyone laughed at the two of them, and the moment passed. Fenris gave Hawke a speculative look and Garrett tried to pretend he didn’t see it. He hoped that Fenris wasn’t angry or jealous that Isabela was writing about him. He didn’t seem angry, but Garrett felt uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

But Fenris didn’t treat him any differently, even after Isabela handed a copy of her final paper around (She got an ‘A’ with a note attached that the entire teaching staff had enjoyed reading it. Garrett noted she hadn’t changed any of the names.) Garrett turned bright red part way through reading and refused to finish. Anders just laughed, pointed out that he did not, in fact, have freckles on his ass (“Are you sure?” purred Isabela) and Fenris read it through with a slightly amused expression on his face, one eyebrow slowly elevating itself into his hairline. Garrett wanted to strangle Isabela. But it really was impossible to stay angry with her. She didn’t mean any harm, she was just...Isabela.

Weeks passed while Isabela stayed infatuated with Merrill. Garrett tried awkwardly flirting with Fenris, who didn’t seem to notice. Anders, who awkwardly flirted with everyone, started showing up to Game Night erratically, and everyone speculated on what, or rather who, was taking up his time. Fenris didn’t seem to be interested in or involved with anyone after Isabela, so Garrett took heart. He wanted to ask ‘Bela if Fenris even liked men, but he knew she was absolutely the worst at keeping secrets, so he bit his lip and soldiered on, getting more and more frustrated as the semester neared a close. Trouble was, Garrett had just sort of fallen into all his adult relationships. He hadn’t actually had to pursue anyone since high school. Sadly, he was more than a little rusty. And Fenris was just so damn hard to read.

What Garrett didn’t realize was that Fenris was actually incredibly shy. He’d fit into their group so quickly and so well that no one had noticed his social anxiety. Besides, when you were friends with people like Anders and Isabela, you couldn’t get a word in edgewise anyway.

Truth was, Fenris had been watching Garrett for a long time. Admiring his tall, muscular physique. Hawke reminded him a little of the male version of Shepard, from Mass Effect, the first video game character Fenris had openly lusted after. But Fenris wasn’t just shy. He wasn’t used to living in a big city like Kirkwall, a college town where things were pretty liberal, at least around campus. Most of Kirkwall was a working class city, Bible-belt, rust-belt and fairly conservative, but that was all a world apart from the area around the college, an island of youth and liberalism, segregated from the mainstream.

Fenris had grown up in an extremely conservative, very small town, not far from the Texas-Mexico border. Ranchers and oil workers. Conservative didn’t begin to describe it. Mostly churches and liquor stores, migrant workers and angry, unemployed locals. He was glad to be out of the place. He’d always known he liked men as well as women, but he learned very early to keep his mouth shut about it. He’d let it slip once, which resulted in him ‘getting his little faggot ass beat’ by some older boys. He took martial arts lessons after that. Nobody ever beat on him again. Not without getting beaten back.

Like Garrett, he didn’t really know how to flirt. He’d only dated one or two girls before Isabela. There had been a man when he’d been at Texas A&M on a scholarship, but it had been a quiet relationship. And Fenris hadn’t made enough friends there for his preferences to be noticeable. He’d learned to assume most men were straight, aggressively so, unless it was very, very obviously to the contrary. It was easier, safer and far less embarrassing that way.

In a way, Fenris had been relieved when Isabela had met Merrill. Not that the relationship hadn’t been fun. She was lively, beautiful, wonderfully athletic - in bed and out - but the first time she’d brought him to Game Night, he’d been totally taken with Hawke. He knew that Hawke had dated Isabela as well, and Fenris was pretty sure the man was straight. He didn’t pay the least attention to Sebastian, not his gorgeous blue eyes or his totally erotic accent. He did flirt with Anders, but that was light-hearted, and Anders flirted with absolutely everyone. It was clearly just joking between them.

So Fenris watched and waited, hoping for some sign that the other man was interested in him, or at least in men in general, and hoping for the courage to let Hawke know how he felt.

He tried always partnering with Garrett whenever they played co-op games. It turned out they both had a passionate love of Diablo II, and played frequently together, sometimes at the store, but usually on-line. They went out a few times, to one of the local clubs. Garrett suggested it, and Fenris hoped that a few beers or a glass or two of wine would help him relax around the bigger man, but most of the college clubs were essentially pick-up joints, and it was hard to just enjoy a drink without one, or both, of them getting hit on by the local girls. Fenris always turned them down. He was pleased to note that Hawke never accepted any offers either. Quite a few girls would slip him their number, but Garrett always tossed them in the trash as they left the club.

It was nearly the end of the semester when Fenris dropped into the store. Garrett wasn’t out front, and when he heard the bell, he came out from the back room with a tall, muscular red-headed girl. Fenris felt his heart drop into his shoes. Hawke looked painfully uncomfortable and introduced the redhead as Aveline. Fenris chatted awkwardly for a minute, saying he was there to confirm their next Game Night and beat a hasty retreat. 

The next time he saw Garrett he made a comment about Aveline and (casually, he hoped) asked how long Hawke had been seeing her. Garrett was obviously flustered and turned a bright red. He stammered out something about Aveline just proofreading his thesis, that there was nothing going on between them. Fenris made small talk and dropped the subject as quickly as possible, much to Hawke’s relief.

Later, he said something about her to Anders, who just raised his eyebrows. “Aveline duLac? Garrett’s known her since they were kids. Pretty sure she’s dating some ROTC soldier named Wesley. I don’t think she’s his type anyway. She’s a bit, hmmm, manly. Nice girl, though, a bit prissy. I’ve met her once or twice.” Fenris didn’t bring it up again, and Anders never pursued the issue.

And then there was that story Isabela wrote. Fenris knew it was only a matter of time before they all ended up in her ‘friend fiction’, but he was deeply grateful at having been spared so far. Hawke and Anders, though, the things she had them doing were positively sinful. It was actually a pretty funny story, with almost as much plot as porn. Anders and Hawke were refugees in a medieval city remarkably like Kirkwall, and the two of them spent three years ‘aching for each other’ before they finally got together in a night of passionate, enthusiastic (and slightly over the top) sex. The parts where the two of them flirted and danced around each other but never seemed to connect were comedy gold. Near misses and romantically challenged characters carried the story just as much as interludes of detailed masturbatory fantasies. Fenris could definitely identify with the situation; only, in real life, it was more painful than funny. Fenris wondered just how much of the text came from her own, intimate, knowledge of the two men. She’d slept with them both, and certainly knew enough about their attributes and behavior. Her vivid descriptions of Garrett’s muscular form gave Fenris many sleepless nights that usually ended with a wank and cold shower. He even found himself jealous of Anders for a bit, causing their banter to have a bit sharper edge than usual. It took a week or two for Fenris' gut to catch up with his brain, and the certain knowledge that Anders and Hawke were not sleeping together. 

And so the excruciating stalemate went on and on. Neither Fenris nor Garrett could work up the courage to approach the other one in any kind of seriously romantic way, and neither one of them had the balls to talk to their friends about it, either. They both started to give up hope.

In the end, it was another of Isabela’s drinking games that tipped the balance. Funny how many of her games ended up being somehow lewd or embarrassing. This time it was: Which Comic Book Character Do You Most Want To Fuck And Why? Of course there was the requisite argument over the fact that they were talking about fictional characters, so the whole venture was a bit on the absurd side, but Isabela never considered impracticality to be a detriment in, well, just about anything. 

Of course she started, pointing out how extremely difficult it would be to narrow the list down to even a few, let alone one, but if she absolutely had to, she’d probably go with Nightcrawler (mmm...prehensile tail). No one was surprised when Anders picked Catwoman, which led to a debate over the movie Catwoman versus the comic Catwoman. Anders did surprise them all by dismissing the movies and stating if he was choosing a flesh and blood Selina Kyle he was ‘going for the classic Julie Newmar, no question’. Merrill giggled and blushed and apologized that she really wasn’t into comics the way the rest of them were, but if she had to choose, she supposed that she might choose Poison Ivy, since ‘she had such lovely hair.’ Varric chose Wonder Woman (it’s the lasso thing.) 

“Okay, Hawke, it’s your turn now.” She eyed him speculatively. “Who will it be? Another Catwoman lover? Harley Quinn? I never got the impression you were turned off by crazy. Oooh, I know, I’ll bet it’s Storm.” 

“Nope. Wrong in three. Wolverine.”

“Really? I didn’t know you swung both ways, Hawke.” Anders’ leer was positively wicked. “So what is it about everyone’s favorite mutant that gets you all hot and bothered?”

“You never asked. And as for why...Passionate. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Very hot.”

“Oh, but what about the claws?” Merrill looked concerned. “Wouldn’t you be worried about the claws? They seem rather sharp.”

Garrett grinned ferally. “Those are a bonus.”

“Don’t keep us waiting, Fenris. We’ve all ‘fessed up.” Varric tossed back another shot.

Fenris suddenly found his mouth dry and couldn’t take his eyes off of Hawke. Anders had to kick him in the ankle to get him to take his turn. To everyone’s surprise, he picked Colossus. He blushed a bit (and Garrett found it unbearably adorable that Fenris’ ears turned pink when he was embarrassed) and he admitted that he liked the idea of having someone that so much bigger than he was, someone that muscular and powerful, and watching them go to pieces underneath him. At the assortment of raised eyebrows, he shrugged and concentrated on his drink while Isabela made a comment about the room temperature and Anders leered at him.

Hawke thought his heart would hammer itself right out of his chest. He was finding it impossible to think of anything but Fenris, naked and domineering, holding him down and making him beg. He blinked, hoping no one had noticed that he’d just taken a bit of a mental holiday. Fortunately, at that moment, Sebastian arrived with pizza, so no one noticed, except Fenris, who had to hurriedly down a cup of ice water while giving Garrett a smoldering look over the rim. 

After a few more rounds of poker (Anders and Merrill lost badly - good thing they were playing for bread sticks. Merrill kept forgetting and eating hers), everyone decided it was time to leave.

“Really, Hawke, all this time you’ve been holding out on me. I thought you were strictly ladies only. You should have said something ages ago!” Anders waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Garrett punched him lightly in the shoulder. “You’re my best friend. Sleeping with you would be just...weird.”

“Ow, is that an insult? I think I’ve been insulted.” He was laughing as Garrett shoved him out the door.

Garrett was surprised to find Fenris hovering awkwardly, holding his coat in his hand, but not putting it on. “I, er, was wondering if you needed any help cleaning up.”

Now it was Garrett’s turn to blush, painfully aware of the erotic images that had been hovering behind his eyeballs all night. “Um, sure, yeah, if you wouldn’t mind gathering up the pizza boxes, I can take them out to the trash.” He collected all the empty chips bags and plastic cups and tied them into an empty bag. Fenris gathered up the cardboard containers. They were too big to fit in the bag, so he simply held them, waiting. Together they carried everything out to the parking lot and tossed them into the large dumpster by the fence. 

Fenris shifted on his feet, looking at the ground and Garrett closed the lid on the large metal bin. The silence between them was infused with tension. He had no idea what to say, and Garrett seemed equally tongue-tied. The tiniest dusting of snow coated the ground. Fenris looked up, a few odd flakes catching in his hair and eyelashes. His breath ghosted out in puffs of smoke in the cold. 

Garret stared, mesmerized. He wanted to say something about how beautiful Fenris looked with snow icing the forest green of his eyes. He wanted to lean forwards and pull the other man into his arms, touching him, kissing him. His tongue seemed frozen in his mouth and nothing, not even breath, escaped his lips.

Fenris shuffled a bit, marking the snow with the toe of his boots. He felt paralyzed by shyness. He’d hoped Hawke would say something, but the other man seemed as indifferent as ever. “I, um, I guess I’ll see you next week then.”

Garrett smiled stiffly, painfully aware of his own silence and all the things he hadn’t said. “Yeah, sure. Next week.” It came out sad and small and empty of all the emotions Hawke was practically choking on.

Fenris nodded and headed out of the lot towards the bus stop. Halfway there, he heard the door to the shop shutting behind him. He stopped and threw his head back, staring at the sky. It was overcast, the snow clouds mixing with the smoke from the steel mills, obscuring the moon. He couldn’t keep going like this. He had to know, one way or the other. After standing still for a moment, he shook himself like a wet dog and turned around. 

Garrett was surprised to hear a knock. He didn’t think anyone had forgotten anything. The last thing he expected when he opened the door was to see Fenris waiting there, head down and huffing steam into the air. Garrett cleared his throat, trying (and failing) to say something clever. Fenris looked up, staring at him with those incredible eyes. 

“I,” Fenris ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck.” He shook his head in disgust at his own in-articulateness. Garrett was about to speak when Fenris pushed him against the door frame and kissed him.

It was a magnificent kiss. Fierce and wild. Fenris had to rise up on his toes, but that didn’t stop him from claiming every inch of Garrett’s mouth. Hawke was utterly taken aback, and just flailed in place, too surprised to respond.

Fenris pulled away, mortified. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I should go.”

“No!” Garrett grabbed his arm and reversed their positions, so that he was the one holding Fenris against the wall. “No. Don’t go.” He framed the smaller man’s face with his hands and dipped his head to press their mouths together again. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered into Fenris’ ear.

Fenris trembled at the hot breath skimming over his ear. “Yes,” he hissed, and he grabbed Garrett’s ass and pulled him close, flush against himself. He kissed him again, eager and hungry. Garrett moaned a little and Fenris dug his fingers into the material of Hawke’s pants, desperate for the hard feeling of their bodies pressed together. Garrett’s hands were everywhere. In his hair, on his neck, his shoulders, down his back. Fenris heard himself moaning softly, felt himself bucking against the other man, spreading his legs so that Hawke could press a thigh between them. He was grinding shamelessly, tugging the red polo out of Garrett’s jeans so that he could run his hands inside of it, up along the smooth muscles of Hawke’s back. Now it was Garrett’s turn to moan, gasping for breath and tugging at Fenris’ clothes.

“Tell me what you want.” Fenris growled into the taller man’s mouth, biting at his lips. “Tell me what you need.”

“You. Oh, Maker, I need you. I want you. Please, Fenris.” His eyes were closed. He was light-headed, reeling from the intensity of the kisses and the animal lust that growl had awakened in the pit of his belly. He gasped and pulled Fenris towards the stairs. “Upstairs.”

They half-stumbled, half-dragged themselves up the stairs, pawing at each other, stripping away clothes and shoes, kissing and nuzzling until they made it to Garrett’s apartment. 

“Bedroom...” Fenris growled again and Garrett felt his knees go wobbly. He wasn’t sure he’d make it to the bed, every second he had to wait for this man to take him, to possess him, every inch of him, was an eternity. When Fenris finally pushed him backwards onto the mattress, he groaned with a heady mixture of desire, relief and pure animal need. By now they were down to nothing but their boxers. Garrett wriggled out of his, then reached into the night stand for a condom and a jar of lube, both of which he tossed onto the pillow. He lay back on the bed and Fenris held him down, tasting him, wild desire in every kiss, his hands and lips everywhere, burning trails of urgency left in their wake. 

Hawke kissed him back, tonguing Fenris’ lips and neck. Nipping at his collarbone and tracing the curve of his jaw. Fenris shuddered and gasped when Garrett gently bit his earlobe, then whispered “Fuck me,” into the whorl of his ear.

Fenris chuckled, a dry, cruel sound. “Oh, I will,” he said, running his nails down Garrett’s chest. “I will.” He reached into Garrett’s boxers and sank his teeth into the powerful muscles of Hawke’s shoulder while he reached across them for the packages.

The first time was powerful, a thing of burning intensity. Sweat and skin and stars exploding behind their eyes. The second was slower, as they took the time to learn each other’s flesh, what produced moans and shivers, where to touch, where to kiss, where to be gentle and where to tear with teeth and nails.

Fenris slept over that night, and the next, thought there was little in the way of actual sleeping. On Monday they both had classes, and Fenris stopped over at his place to gather some things and tell his room-mate that he’d be back. Eventually.

By the next semester there was no point in maintaining separate spaces. Garrett’s apartment was more than big enough for the two of them, and Fenris had very little left at his old place, except for his books, his futon and some stereo equipment. The books turned out to be the subject of their first argument, such as it was. Hawke liked to sort his books by size. Fenris arranged his alphabetically by title, further broken down into subgroups by topic. In the end, Hawke gave in, conceding it was much easier to find a given volume Fenris’ way, and besides, he’d bought an e-reader anyway.

Eventually the group graduated, moved on and split up. Bethany fell head over heels for a taciturn Scottish soldier named Nathaniel and stayed in the U.K. to marry him. Anders’ adviser, Dr. Thekla, retired before Anders could finish his ridiculously overdue dissertation. Much to everyone’s surprise, it turned out that the two of them had become involved, very involved, and when Dr. Thekla moved to Sweden, Anders quit school and went with him. He wrote Garrett regularly, long rambling letters and lots of pictures of fjords. Isabela never did get tired of Merrill and the two of them moved to Australia, where Merrill got a job as a professor at a prestigious University in Perth. Isabela finished her degree there and then took up professional yacht racing. Turned out she was made for the open waters, and Garrett and Fenris frequently spotted her name in some of the top competitions in the world.

Fenris and Garrett stayed together, of course, and lived pretty much happily ever after. Garrett inherited a bit of money from an Uncle Gamlen he hadn’t even known existed and used it to buy the building that housed Kirkwall Games, and the lovely old Arts and Crafts house next door. He and Fenris lived there, and turned Kirkwall Games, and the building it was in, into a combination gaming center, coffee shop and student lounge. He hired a nice kid by the name of Keran to manage the place (and rented him the upstairs apartment really cheap). He and Fenris would stop over for coffee every Friday night, and usually managed to get into a game or two with the younger kids. Then they’d go home to their bedroom, to their lavish king-size bed with its silk sheets and crimson hangings and spend the night exploring mouths and ears and bodies and skin with the same enthusiasm they’d had for each other since the very first night.

Garrett did, finally, find out what Varric Tethras did for a living. Turned out he wrote highly successful, slightly naughty and extremely soppy romance novels.


End file.
